


Dancing

by teamchaosprez



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 11:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16085195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamchaosprez/pseuds/teamchaosprez
Summary: Hiyoko Saionji wakes up from the Neo World Program, and Mahiru Koizumi is there for her.





	Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> these two are one of my favorite pairings and i haven't written about them yet, that is a crime, please arrest me

The first thing Hiyoko was aware of when she rose into consciousness from the dark, dark depths of death was the piercing pain against her throat. It was like she could still feel Mikan’s blade pressing into her neck, choking her, making her gargle against her own breath as she bled out. Tangerine eyes opened quickly in a panic, and as Hiyoko took a deep breath she felt the pain where her throat had been slit in the simulation beginning to fade. She choked on the dust filled and stale air, felt tears filling her eyes as her senses slowly returned to her and she felt a rush of emotion. Every emotion.

Shock was the first thing to hit her, although it was quickly followed by an intense, primal fear. The neon, glowing blue of the lights along her pod did little to alleviate it, so rather than being lessened the more she breathed it just became duller to make room for crushing, crushing sadness. Rage at Mikan for killing her, at Junko Enoshima for managing to take over her whole life so easily. Despair… this unrelenting cocktail of emotion must be called despair. Hiyoko didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with it. She didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with the crushing weight against her chest, crushing her ribs and piercing her heart and making it impossible to breathe.

She screamed. A horrible and animalistic scream that could hardly be contained by the pod holding her, restraining her, keeping her captive with her emotions and awful, awful thoughts. Small hands pressed up against the glass above her as she screamed and sobbed and begged for somebody, anybody to help her, to save her, to get her out of this awful little box. She saw little bits of dust falling from the glass above her; it was like she was so aware of every little detail, but so detached at the same time. Her throat was beginning to give out from the screaming, but she couldn’t stop.

A powerful hiss of air reached her ears as the hatch of the pod came undone and rose above her. The rush of fresher air calmed her only slightly; it was the arms that reached into the pod and took her close to her savior’s chest that did. Hiyoko clung tightly to whoever decided to save her, stopped screaming and listened to a familiar and caring voice shush her, tell her that everything was okay. Explain to her that she was safe and that nobody would ever hurt her again. The person that saved her climbed into the pod beside her, held her in their lap and stroked her hair.

She hadn’t even noticed that the long blonde locks were down.

Once her breathing had slowed down more and her shaking and unceasing panic had eased somewhat, the only sign of Hiyoko’s distress was the tears falling down her cheeks like little waterfalls and the stabbing pain in her chest. She finally turned her head and looked up at the person who was so gentle with her; she already knew who they were, but the pain eased somewhat when she confirmed it.

Mahiru Koizumi held her gently, stroked her hair and hummed a little tune to help her relax. Hiyoko pulled her knees up a little closer to her chest, leaned against her girlfriend as she was rocked gently and soothed. The dancer’s eyes closed, and she began to relax, breathing still hitched but starting to slow to a much more manageable rate. “Are you okay now?” Mahiru asked her in a voice that was gentle and loving and caring, so much more than Hiyoko had ever deserved. In the simulation, in life.

She nodded slowly, her breathing easing down to a normal rate as the tears stopped falling down her face. “I think so,” she responded in actual words for the first time, her voice quiet and hoarse from the screaming she had done as she cuddled a little closer to Mahiru. She was slowly piecing together the world around her; the pods lining a massive cylindrical computer displaying the words  **NEO WORLD PROGRAM** on faintly brightened screens. She saw silhouettes in some of the pods, others empty. Had everyone been asleep just like she had been? Had none of the killing game been real?

Why could she still feel the pain in her throat when she thought too much about her ‘death,’ then? Why could she still see Ibuki’s limp and lifeless body while Mikan strangled her, ended both of their lives. A choked sob escaped Hiyoko, and she buried her face in Mahiru’s shirt. Her girlfriend’s hand combed through her hair gently, carefully, and it didn’t take very long this time for her to stop sobbing. “See? You’re okay.” Gentle lips were pressed against Hiyoko’s forehead, and she let out a shaky sigh.

“What happened?” was all Hiyoko could think to ask at first, looking up at Mahiru with tear stained cheeks and breathing coming out in soft hiccups. She needed to know, she didn’t know if she was ready to know but she needed to. She needed to know if she was dead or not, and if she was, why was she feeling so much pain, if she wasn’t, why did she see Mahiru dead, dead on the floor, bleeding profusely from her head, every single time she closed her eyes? What  _ happened? _ Hiyoko couldn’t wrap her mind around any of this, her thoughts scattered and discordant as she struggled to comprehend the world.

“From what I’ve been told, we were all put into a simulation because of what we did when we were members of the Ultimate Despair,” Mahiru explained to her, and there was so much weight, so much pain behind her words. It made Hiyoko’s whole chest ache. “We were supposed to recover from despair in there, but… well, from what Hajime told me, it didn’t work out that way. A… a virus was planted into the simulation, a virus that forced all of us to start killing each other and made us all want to leave.”

A shudder ran down Hiyoko’s spine as she remembered the deaths she had to witness. She could still see Byakuya - no, they weren’t Byakuya, they were the Ultimate Imposter - lying dead on the floor underneath a banquet table, she could still see Teruteru being deep fried, she could still imagine Mahiru dead on the floor and the attempt to blame her for it, she could still see Peko’s execution and Fuyuhiko’s fight to stay alive. Ibuki, dying right in front of her while she was helpless to even try and save her. A soft hiccup left her as she tried to hold down another round of tears as Mahiru held her a bit closer.

She thought about the awful things she’d done again, when she was a member of the Ultimate Despair, and… and even long before that. She had been a bully, regardless of whether it was a defense mechanism or not. Maybe she deserved to be murdered by the girl she taunted for so long. Maybe she shouldn’t be alive right now. A tightness coiled up in her test, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and Hiyoko wriggled out of Mahiru’s grip. She wanted to be held, but she also didn’t; she wanted that comfort, but she doubted that she deserved it.

“Hiyoko?” Her girlfriend’s voice broke her out of her panic as she slowly got up to her feet, barely aware that her legs were shaking from the amount of time she spent unconscious. How long had she even been out? She knew that she had been in the simulation at least a couple of weeks, but after her “death,” how long had the coma continued? Why were her legs so  _ weak? _ “Hiyoko, don’t strain yourself so soon after waking up, just calm down and sit back down…”

She shook her head, pulled herself out of the pod holding her prisoner and sprinted out of the room, down the long, clean, stark white walls surrounding her. Bright, everything was too bright, and she wasn’t entirely sure of where she was going as she ran away from the room with the computer and the pods. She didn’t bother to look back and see if Mahiru was following after her, because she was pretty sure the taller girl had probably figured out that she wasn’t worth following after. 

When she left the building, she could smell the salty sea air and heard the crashing of waves a little bit away from her. So the islands hadn’t been entirely a part of the simulation; they really were on Jabberwock Island to recover from despair, but now it was meant to keep them captive and quiet. She felt like she was going to throw up as she rushed towards the sound of the ocean. Maybe seeing the water and hearing the peaceful sounds of the beach would help her calm down; it always had a soothing effect on her, especially after the death of Mahiru in the simulation.

She collapsed to her knees as soon as she was only a couple of feet from the ocean water, breathing heavily partially out of hysteria and partially from the exercise. The most exercise she had gotten in months, probably. She became a little more aware of herself with every moment she tried to anchor her down into reality; she was missing her signature kimono, wearing a paper thin hospital gown instead. She shivered, pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin upon them as she stared out at the ocean, the deep endless blue that made her feel so small, so wonderfully small.

Dancing, moving until her face was red and sweaty and her limbs were numb and buzzing, was always therapeutic for her. She stood on her shaky legs, didn’t even think about whether her weakened state would let her move the way she always had - especially after sprinting out of the facility, hospital, whatever it was that held the supercomputer and the pods. She was acutely aware of the soreness in her legs and feet already, but it was fairly easy to ignore as she settled into a familiar starting position.

She moved her body through familiar steps, one of the early dances that she performed when her grandmother first deemed her ready for the public eye. The steps and arm movements had been so old and safe for so long that she didn’t understand when one knee gave out and she fell into a heap in the sand - or at least she would have if Mahiru had not rushed to meet her and caught her in her arms. “Don’t scare me like that,” her girlfriend scolded her, though her voice held no heat.

“Sorry,” she responded, her voice quiet and sad as the other girl helped her stand up a little bit straighter. Hiyoko looked up at her girlfriend for a moment before glancing down at the way her girlfriend’s hands rested against her hips. A seed of a thought appeared in the traditional dancer’s mind, and she put her hands on Mahiru’s shoulders, pulled herself a step back. It was hardly a traditional, old fashioned dance, but she knew how to do it, and she knew that it was easier than what she was attempting earlier. And she knew, very, very well, that dancing with a partner was sometimes easier than doing it alone, especially when feeling as terrible as she did at this very moment.

Mahiru tried to protest at first as Hiyoko began leading her in gentle movements, a careful and easy waltz, but they died down after a few moments. The two girls moved gracefully on the sand against the setting sun, and Hiyoko felt the familiar ease settle into her chest that spending time with Mahiru or dancing always gave her. It wasn’t very long before she was feeling much better.

“We’re gonna be okay?” she asked, voice quiet.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Mahiru confirmed firmly, leaned down to kiss Hiyoko gently on the lips, and though she wasn’t fully healed, the small dancer became well aware that she was a step closer.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


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